by S. J. Harper
A vampire can’t execute thrall outside of someone’s presence. But some of the more powerful are able to communicate with or call out to their progeny. I’ve seen Kallistos do it before with Rose. They’ve had a lot of time to practice. They’ve been together for more than a hundred years.
Kallistos came across her at the Seabrook Sanitarium in Brighton in the late eighteen hundreds. He was meeting with a young doctor who claimed to have isolated the contagion responsible for vampirism. Rose had been a long-term resident and was about to lose a battle with consumption. It wasn’t only her heart-shaped face and hollow green eyes that called to him. It was her refusal to accept death and her unflinching and unapologetic desire for eternal life. As it turned out, the doctor was an idiot who had been experimenting on some of the children—infusing them with the blood of half-starved, half-mad fledgling vampires. Kallistos killed the doctor, released the vampires, then turned Rose. She’s been his most trusted and favored child since.
“You get other special privileges.” His hands fall to my waist. He takes a step closer, lowers his voice. “Besides, I haven’t made up my mind. I intend to hear you out and that has Rose worried. She knows you can be . . . persuasive.” Kallistos reaches for the doorknob behind me. “And we need to see how Owen feels.”
I stay his hand. “Do you think he can do it?”
The door opens. It’s Rose. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to continue this conversation inside? It’s getting a bit tiresome, having to repeat everything the two of you say to Liz.”
Zack’s right behind her. “Evan just sent Craig’s email log-in, password, and IP address.” He holds up his keys. “I’m going to get my laptop from the car.”
Rose moves to let him pass.
Suddenly I’m stuck in the middle. Zack in front of me, Kallistos at my back. Under other circumstances, perfect fodder for a sexual fantasy—the vampire, the Siren, and the werewolf.
I swipe the keys from Zack’s hand. “I’ll get it.” I don’t have the time to indulge in foolishness. A happily-ever-after isn’t in my future. And more important, if we don’t pinpoint the location of these girls soon, they’ll have no future at all.
* * *
I close the door to the Suburban, turn around, and run smack into Kallistos. The laptop slips from my hands. He manages to catch it just before it hits the ground.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, handing it back to me. “I decided it would be best to clear the air. Why’d you let him do it?”
I shrug. “What is your objection? That the mark is gone or that I let Zack remove it?”
“Must I pick one?”
“Letting you that close to me is not a good idea. Not for either one of us, and you know it.”
His eyes dart away. “Would it have made a difference if I’d asked permission?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
He nods. “Fair enough.”
After a moment of awkward silence, I sigh. “We’ll have time to work through this later. Right now, I need to know if you’re going to support our plan to use Owen. He’s the best chance we have to rescue these girls.”
“I know this is important to you. What matters to you, matters to me.”
I lean against the SUV and search his eyes. “Don’t you want to try to save them just because it’s the right thing to do?”
He leans against the red Mustang in the adjacent spot, mimicking my posture. “Of course, but I must weigh the potential consequences. Like Rose, I’m not anxious to place Owen in this situation. He’s mine to protect.”
It’s a sentiment he’s expressed before, but this time the tone is different. Understanding dawns. “You’re his sire. I always thought he belonged to Rose.”
“It would probably be more accurate to say they belong to each other.” He shakes his head. “Rose asks for so little. They fell in love. It was the eighties. Before they met, he’d had a heroin habit. He was a talented artist. Functional, when he wasn’t fucked-up. When he was diagnosed with AIDS she came to me, asking for permission to turn him. I said no.”
“And Rose respected that?” It was tradition for a vampire to request the sire’s permission before taking on the responsibility of a progeny. But the custom, like so many other things in the supernatural world, was changing.
“Rose respects me. Whether human or vampire, I figured things wouldn’t end well for Owen. At best he was going to be a burden. More likely, a severe liability that would eventually have to be dealt with.”
“But then you changed your mind.”
“Because Rose was heartbroken. As Owen began to slip away, so did she. She stopped feeding. I relented. Took on the burden.”
“You did the right thing, despite the potential consequences.” I hug Zack’s laptop to my chest and start to head back toward the entrance to the building. “You’re a romantic.”
Suddenly he’s in front of me, blocking my path. His expression is stern, his features hardened. “I’m not a romantic. I gave up that foolishness the day I died. I’m selfish. I’ve grown used to having Rose around. I didn’t want her to leave me.”
I study him, trying to gauge whether he’s telling the truth or feeding me a line of bullshit. I decide it doesn’t really matter, at least not right now. What matters is that we might have both a lead and an avenue to follow up on it.
“Kal, these girls have families. They are young and vulnerable. They have lives, lives that are now in jeopardy because they volunteered to supply your vampires with blood—boutique blood.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
He turns and heads for the entrance. “I’ll let you use Owen. If he agrees.”
“But only because he really wants to do it,” I say as I hurry to keep up.
“That’s right. And because I have a feeling it’s going to lead me to Ford and Lamont.”
I shoot him a sideways glance. “And to save ten young, blond virgins,” I remind him.
He shrugs. “And that.”
* * *
“That was totally unnecessary. You didn’t need to ask Simon to help,” Zack is saying as we enter Liz’s condo. “I’m telling you, I can make it look like we were checking Craig’s email from his apartment.”
“I’m sure you can,” agrees Rose as she slips her cell phone back into her pocket. “But Simon lives for this kind of thing. Besides, we can’t afford any slip-ups and you don’t want to risk associating the Federal Bureau of Investigation with something so nefarious. Now, do you?”
Her bright green eyes are fixed on those of the six-foot-plus werewolf towering over her, but her attempt to compel him into compliance is met with utter failure.
Zack smiles wryly. “I told you already, Princess, you can’t put me into thrall. I’m immune.”
Hands on hips, Rose stomps her foot. “How are you doing that?”
I suppress a smile. Rose has no way of knowing Zack carries a talisman to protect him from thrall, a smooth, polished stone the size of a quarter. I’m sure it’s in his pocket right now.
I feel Kallistos’ hand at the small of my back. “Honey, I told you we shouldn’t leave the children alone.”
Zack snarls something unintelligible.
I hold up his laptop. “Where do you want it?”
Liz points to the dining room table. “How about you set up over there? I could use a cup of coffee. Anyone else?”
I raise my hand. Zack asks for a glass of water. By the time Liz returns with it, he’s already intently typing. I look over his shoulder. “You in?”
“Almost. Here we go.” He punctuates the last statement with a jab to the keyboard and then he leans back in the chair.
A list of emails begins to load within the in-box on the screen. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I see one pop up from [email protected]. “Bingo!” It comes out in a rush of air.
Zack clicks on it.
The message is brief: A car will pick you up tomorrow at sunset.
“What time is sunset tomorrow?” I ask.
“Just after seven,” Kallistos answers.
“We should try to trace the email.”
After a few clicks, the nicely formatted email looks like one lengthy block of nondescript code.
The doorbell rings. Liz answers.
It’s Simon.
“I’m just about to run a trace,” Zack tells him.
“Wait! Wait!” Simon jogs over, pulling his laptop out on the way to the table. “Let’s race!”
Within seconds both men are staring at their screens, hopeful, expectant.
“Oh man!” groans Simon.
Zack shakes his head. “Whoever is behind this made sure we couldn’t track the location of the computer,” he explains. “The email could only be traced as far as an anonymous open proxy in Russia.”
“Looks like we’re back to plan B,” says Owen.
We all turn to look at him. Rose gently places her hand on his arm. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Kallistos studies Owen for a moment, then answers for him. “He feels he owes Emma. For saving his life. And he wants to prove himself. To me. To you.”
Owen nods. “I can do it.”
Rose turns to Liz. “Sunset falls at eight minutes after seven. Will that be enough time for you to work your magic?”
“That depends on how quickly we can pull all of the ingredients together.” Liz makes her way over toward the entry, stopping at the edge of the black-and-white area rug we’d all walked across.
She waves her hand gracefully. “Alka awatum.”
A grimoire, huge, old, and familiar to me from when it had been her grandmother’s, materializes like a wisp of smoke from under the carpet and takes form in her hands.
Rose turns to Simon. “You know how you’re always complaining that your comic book collection is outgrowing your apartment? Well, there’s your solution.”
The leather-bound volume is now open on the table. Liz quickly turns to one of many dog-eared pages. “It’s been several years since I’ve done this spell. I’ll need some unusual ingredients.”
I peer over her shoulder, curious. What I see on the pages brings a hundred questions to mind. But Liz is deep in thought, running a finger over a list that looks to me like gibberish.
“Some of these things I have,” she says after a moment. “Vervain, mandrake root, almond oil, and the beeswax candles—one black and five red. I can get those from my condo. We need some of Craig’s DNA. Hair would work nicely.”
“Zack and I will take care of that,” I say. “Evan’s still at Craig’s, right? We just need the address.”
Liz continues absently, either ignoring or not hearing my comment. “Poplar leaves. Twenty or so should do it. I know of a nursery in Vista that’s sure to carry poplars, although there might be another one closer.”
Zack starts to click away on his keyboard. “Checking.”
“Frankincense resin,” she murmurs, looking up. “Anyone know a local priest?”
Simon raises his hand. “My brother.” He pulls out his cell and begins to dial. “We’re supposed to meet for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll ask him to bring some. How much do you need?”
“Four or five good-sized pieces. It’s the quality that’s most important. They must be translucent, no black or brown impurities,” adds Liz.
Simon nods. “It’s rolling into voice mail. I’ll leave a message.”
“Maybe you should call back and speak to him in person,” I suggest. “It’s kind of an odd request.”
Simon waves me off. “He’s my brother. He’s used to odd requests.”
Zack’s on the phone, too. Speaking in hushed tones. “They have a poplar at Anderson’s Nursery. It’s just a few miles from here.”
“Owen and I can run and get it. I have the truck,” says Rose.
Rose climbing into the cab of a pickup wearing her crinoline and taffeta? This I have to see.
Liz is looking now at Kallistos. “I’m afraid this last item is going to require someone with your special skills. And we can’t wait until nightfall.”
He nods. “Let’s hear it.”
“We need a three-horned chameleon, also referred to as a Jackson’s chameleon. A male.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, a smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. “And when I find this chameleon, just how do I substantiate it’s a male?”
Liz grins back. “The ones with the three horns are male. The last time I did this spell I . . . um . . . borrowed one from the San Diego Zoo.”
“So, I’m supposed to walk into the zoo in broad daylight and then walk out with a chameleon in my pocket?” he asks.
“Or you could just ask your pal Paul to do it,” Zack interjects with more than a touch of sarcasm. “I hear he’s been unexpectedly freed up from his last assignment.”
I elbow him in the ribs. Thankfully, Kallistos doesn’t rise to the bait and everyone else ignores the gibe.
“No. That won’t work.” Liz grabs her jacket off the back of one of the dining room chairs and starts to slip it on.
“No?” Kallistos’ arms are still crossed. “And why not?”
“It’s going to be too big to slip into your pocket.”
Kallistos is frowning now, which makes us all smile. Suddenly I realize Liz is heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To pick up a fifth of Ketel One.”
I glance down at the list of ingredients. “You need vodka for the spell?”
She shakes her head. “No. The vodka’s for me. I have a feeling I’m going to need it. Come on.” She claps her hands like a schoolteacher rounding up errant students. “You all have your assignments.” She checks her watch. “Let’s get moving.”
CHAPTER 19
Craig’s place is in the downtown area, not far from Evan’s condo. It happens to be around the corner from the former site of Barbara Pierce’s lab. Zack is driving, so I have the opportunity to scrutinize the building’s exterior as we go by. No outward sign of the blast that destroyed it remains.
“Looks like a brand-new building.”
Zack frowns. His shoulders tighten. His grasp on the wheel becomes firmer. I know what he’s thinking, that if it weren’t for Kallistos, there wouldn’t have been anything to repair in the first place. I focus once again on the view. The streets are dotted with Padres fans dressed in the requisite blue and orange. They’re heading toward Petco Park, which is just a few blocks away.
I point to the parade. “Padres are playing this afternoon. We might have trouble parking,” I say.
All I get from Zack is a “Hmm.”
He makes one final right turn, then pulls into a loading zone. He shuts off the engine to the SUV, then rolls down his window. A GO-4 three-wheel scooter heads for us, a parking enforcement officer inside. Zack holds his badge out the window and waits for her approach.
“We’re here on official business,” he says smoothly. “We shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes.”
The attendant looks up. I can tell from the expression on her face it’s not the badge that makes her nod and smile. It’s Zack. I turn away to hide a grin. When the attendant moves on to the red pickup in front of us, I give his arm a playful jab.
“What?” he asks.
I point to the attendant who has emerged, ticket book in hand. She can’t resist a glance back at us before focusing on the meter.
“The Armstrong charm wins out again.”
Zack sniffs.
Our destination is across the street, but Zack makes no move to get out of the car. Instead, he turns in his seat to face me.
“Before we go in, we need to talk.”
“About?”
“This mission. Your vampire. The thousands of different ways he could screw this up,” he says. “Those girls are nothing more than a commodity to Kallistos. I refuse to be blindsided by him again.”
“I get it. You don’t trust him.”
“What you don’t seem to get is that neither should you. Your judgment is clouded where he’s concerned. Your feelings for him—”
“I don’t have feelings for him.”
“Right, I forgot. You just let him fuck you.”
The bitterness in his tone cuts me to the quick. I can’t give in to the hurt. If I do, I’ll unravel. “I’m a Siren, Zack. Sex doesn’t hold the same meaning for me that it does for you. It doesn’t hold any meaning. It’s . . .” All I have. All I’ll ever have. “Never mind.”
He looks away. “Lie to yourself all you want. What we share isn’t about sex. And it isn’t meaningless. Maybe that’s what it is that terrifies you. Why you feel safer with Kallistos.”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t bother denying it. I can smell your fear of me. It’s suffocating, intoxicating . . . confusing. I don’t understand it.” He waits a beat. When it becomes clear I’m not going to respond, he points to my neck and asks, “How did he take it, by the way?”
I shrug, grateful for the change in subject. “Surprisingly well. You could have told me he’d sense the removal of the mark.”
“I didn’t know.” He seems to ponder the idea. “Normally the connection goes both ways. Although not necessarily to the same degree.”
“Like between Owen and Kallistos?”
“Yeah. What about when the mark was severed? Did you feel anything?”
I feel heat rise to my face. “Only you.”
Suddenly I’m back in that bathroom with Zack, enveloped in his passion. His mouth on my neck. His fangs tentatively grazing my skin. His cock pressing into my backside.
“Nothing of him? Are you sure?”
Zack’s nostrils flare. I’m certain he senses my desire—desire not for Kallistos.
“I’m sure.”
I close my eyes and hope he’ll let it go, as he’s done so many times in the past. Instead he reaches out, cupping my cheek in the palm of his hand. I feel my breath hitch, my heartbeat quicken. I feel him move closer. Know his mouth is hovering over mine.
“You know you are driving me completely insane.” His thumb is stroking the side of my cheek.